


Just Getting By

by MackieBoy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Everybody is a mess, Grief/Mourning, Half cuban/half american Lance, Half japanese/Half american Keith, How Do I Tag, Hunk (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith is lonely, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance is too, Lance probably has ADHD, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron), None of them are good at confronting their problems, Please read this I’m dying for feedback, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Keith/Lance (Voltron), Soulmate AU, Spoiler Alert: Keith’s parents are fucking dead, every Keith I write is autistic, idek, idk - Freeform, it affects Lance’s outlook, it might get angsty for a bit but no worries, just some inner turmoil and coming to terms with feelings and stuff, klance, lance’s sister has soulmate issues, nobody gets kidnapped or any shit like that, sorry - Freeform, tbh, you’ll find out later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-03-14 17:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13595016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MackieBoy/pseuds/MackieBoy
Summary: Lance has always wanted to meet his soulmate. It’s been a dream of his since he was a small child. But by now he’s starting to wonder if his soulmate even exists. After years of trying and trying to get a response to the greetings written on his arm, he’s just about given up all hope. Just focus on school so that he can transfer to a four year, flirt with cute girls (and the occaisonal boy), get rich and do what he loves, whatever that turns out to be. It seems like a solid enough plan for a Go With The Flow kinda guy. Until a bit of a... complication... arrives, throwing him off balance and bringing up old dreams of soulmates and true love that he’d long thought sufficiently quashed.AKA the super over done soulmate au where you write on yourself and it appears on your soulmate’s skin that literally everyone writes at least once (I’m going for it anyway)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you like this, guys!! I wanted to finish this before I posted it, but I just couldn’t seem to motivate myself. So, I have a three chapter head start at least!!! If you like this, please comment something, or even if you have criticisms or ideas to help me further this storry along! Anything helps! Well, anyway, strap in, folks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I managed to fix the Spacing so hopefully that helps a bit! Thanks for being patient with me as I learn to navigate ao3 haha

     Lance had always been a particular child. Even when he was young he had a knack for keeping his person clean- “I always take a bath at seven o’clock after dinner! Everyday!”

     Yet he was the first kid to offer to get his hands dirty in an situation. 

     His room was usually an odd mixture of neat and haphazard. An almost calculated lived-in look. If you took a moment, it wasn’t hard to figure out the method to the madness; which messes were prioritized over others.

     Cans and food were always promptly thrown away or recycled. Homework was always dutifully put away in his bag when he wasn’t working on it. Dirty laundry was mostly confined to the corner of his room where his hamper sat- save a few sweaters draped here and there and the pants Lance kicked off before going to bed. The hamper was emptied at the end of every week so it was rarely overflowing. Lance could never survive without a full selection of clothing at all times.

     But pens? Markers? Highlighters? They were  _ everywhere. _ A sharpie, shoved into the pillowcase of at least two of his many pillows at all times; a half opened pack of multi-coloured pens spilled over the surface of his desk. A jar of india ink and a ridiculous  _ Harry Potter _ quill were stowed neatly on his nightstand next to a stack of practice cards for calligraphy. Anything he could use to write or doodle on himself was made readily available. After all, who knew when he would get a sudden brilliant spark, or just feel the need to converse with his soulmate?

 

     Not that they ever answered.

 

     Despite numerous failed attempts, Lance had been infatuated with the idea of communicating with his soulmate since the day he’d found out they existed.

     As he grew up, he became more apt to keeping a pen on him at all times, just in case. It soon got to the point where people would joke that he seemed to hoard writing utensils like a dragon hoards treasure.

     Once when he was 8, his mother had woken him early on a summer morning to accompany her on her errands. His father had taken his two brothers, Isaac and Angel on a fishing trip and his sister Ana was spending the weekend with her friend. Lance’s Papa had offered to take him fishing with his brothers but he’d opted to stay home to help his Mama. 

     Although Lance had grumbled half-heartedly about his lost sleep, he had always loved spending time with his mother and savoured any moment she could give him her sole attention, unbroken by the distractions of everyday life with the rest of the family.

     It did not, however, stop him from freaking out hours later when it dawned on him that he had forgotten to grab a marker on his way out the door. This was around the time he had made it a habit of carrying a writing utensil everywhere he went and the very same week he’d decided he needed to write a greeting on his arm every morning.

     He’d been riding in the backseat, chattering excitedly to his mother about anything that came to mind when he’d looked down at his arm and gasped. The car stayed steady but his mother had called out to him in a worried voice, “What? What is it honey?”

     “I forgot to say good morning to my soulmate!” he replied, scandalized. 

     With a sigh, his mother had told him to wait it out- and he had! All the while bouncing nervously in his seat and flipping the lock on his door (“Lance Castillo-Mcclain if you do not cut that out  _ right _ now-That is dangerous.”)

     When they finally pulled into the Walmart parking lot, his mama had had to keep a tight hold on his hand to keep him from sprinting in the way of cars in order to get to the entrance. Inside the store he wandered in circles and worried at the faded words on his arm from the days prior. His mother had asked him to at least wash it away during his bath every night but he’d left faint marks and claimed he tried his best to scrub it away. He'd felt very sentimental about the letters scrawled across his arm, even if he had yet to be granted a response. Now, he tapped his fingers on every messy capital letter and shuffled around so much his mother had gotten fed up and firmly scolded him for nearly running into several people over the course of five minutes.

     He had long outgrown the child-seat of the cart, but tired and dramatic as ever he had pleaded to lay in the belly of it in an effort to compromise. While his mama strolled through the aisles of Walmart, Lance in tow, his eye caught on the arts ‘n’ crafts section. He suddenly sat bolt upright and whipped around to make eye contact with his mother, disturbing the balance of the cart.

     “Mama! There’s pens over there. I forgot my pen! I need a new one! Mama, I didn’t say good morning to my soulmate! Please can we buy me a new pen?” he’d gasped in his most despairing tone.

     His Mama was having none of it. “They can wait until we get home, Lance. It’s just this once. Besides, what did I say about writing on yourself so much?”

     Lance sighed. “I could get ink poisoning and  _ die. _ But  _ moooom.  _ I’ll die if I don’t say good morning to them! I’m a horrible soulmate! They need to know I love them! If I don’t tell them, how will they know?” His eyes were wide with panic.

     “Honey…” her eyes had gone soft for a second, but she didn’t waver, “Lance, you will not die if you wait another hour to say good morning and-” 

     “-But then it won’t even be morning!  _ Mom. Mama. Pleeeaaasseee?  _ Since we can’t go home right now can I get a new pen?  _ Please _ ?”

     “Lance-”

     “ _ Please mama. _ ”

     She’d sighed in defeat and relented, “Okay,  _ okay _ . Which do you want then?”

     She’d brought him through the arts and crafts aisle and he’d stood up in the cart leaning forward  to look at his options- an action that ended with him being scolded. He’d hopped down to the floor and frantically pointed to a tube of cobalt blue paint.

     “That one! I have to make it up to them somehow! I want that shade of blue ‘cos it’s the prettiest!”

     And that’s when his mother explained that in order for the soulmate to see it, it had to stain your skin. “Pens and markers, those leave stains on your skin. That is what your soulmate sees. It’s a bit fainter than what you see on your own skin. Acrylic paint rarely stains. It just sits on top, so it won’t show up. Thank goodness too, or else you’d look filthy every time your soulmate so much as got muddy.”

     Lance had pouted about every time he had unknowingly used paint, “ _ you should have told me this sooner Mama.” _

     Instead, they had opted for a sparkly blue gel pen and she’d let him open it as soon as they checked. Lance scribbled a hasty  “I’m sorry, Went shopping! Good morning :)” on his arm as he watched the clock above them turn to 11:57.

     When they’d gotten in the car he was in a far better mood and his mom smiled at him in the rearview mirror as he thanked her for the hundredth time.

     “You’re welcome baby. But… Lance,” her eyes had that soft look to them again, “Your soulmate won’t hate you if you miss one day. You don’t always have to tell people in order for them to know you love them.Sometimes it’s what you do that says more than ‘I love you’ can.”

     Lance had nodded along, too happy about his new pen and for keeping his promise to himself to really pay much attention but the words embedded themselves there in his mind regardless.


	2. Just Starting Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we skip to the present wherein Lance is attending his first day of college.
> 
> Aka the first few chapters are gonna be a lot of exposition please hang in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait to post this so have it n o w

     Lance knew his alarm was going to go off, yet it didn't keep him from jumping out of his skin when it finally did. He'd been awake for two hours already trying-and failing- to go back to sleep.

Holding up a hand, he counted the hours off on his fingers.

_ Let's see, I went to sleep at 2 am, and my alarm goes off at eight. I woke up at 6 so that's… 1, 2, 3- only four out of six hours of sleep. _

__ An exasperated groan escaped his lips.

As if on cue, there was a knock at his door, “Uncle Sleepyhead, mama said you have schooool.”

“Sorry Mateo, I have no clue who this Sleepy Head guy is, but-” he yawned around his words, “-he's not here. Try grandma’s room.”

A beat passed before he heard a giggle through his door, “Uncle Laaaannnccee.”

“Yes, Matty?”

“That's not what I  _ meant,  _ silly!”

“What's that? I can't hear you,” he teased.

The child let out a half groan half laugh, “I  _ said  _ that's not what I-”

“I can't hear you!”

“ _ Uncle Lan-” _

__ _ “ _ Okay okay, kiddo. I'm messing with you. I'll be up in a minute. Thank you for waking me up,” Lance relented. He glared half heartedly at the ceiling and added mischievously, “Tell your mama that Uncle Lance said, ‘Thanks a lot, Poopyhead!’ And stick your tongue out at her for me okay?” He even made sure to add the sound effect, loud enough for Mateo to hear through the door, and grinned triumphantly when he was rewarded with the sound of his nephew’s snort as he giggled.

Lance waited until the footsteps faded down the stairs before slinging his feet over the side of his bed and another full minute passed before he even bothered to stand; half sliding, half willing himself out of bed.

Today was going to be a long day.

It was his first day of college classes  _ ever _ and he was going in severely ill-prepared. Only four hours of sleep and an hour to get ready for his first class. Plus he'd had to babysit the day of orientation and although the campus of his local community college was small, he had no clue where any of his classes were. Hell, even for a small college the website was impossible to navigate and crashed at least three times in the span of an hour, so he wasn't even sure what books he needed yet.

_ God, I'm so far behind already. _

Still, he wasn’t going to let on that he had no clue what he was doing. As cheesy as it sounded, Lance planned to stick to the credo, ‘Fake it ‘til you make it.’

So far, it had worked for him.

Which meant he was going to take a quick, thirty minute shower, and settle for his most basic skin care routine which he reserved for days in which he had absolutely no time. Afterwards, he threw on his favorite outfit: a blue baseball t-shirt, his most comfortable jeans and a green bomber jacket.

He glanced at the clock on his bedside and cheered inwardly (okay, maybe he did do a fist pump in the air). 26 minutes. A new record.

Despite the lack of a sufficient amount of sleep, Lance felt energized as he bounded his way down the stairs, taking two steps at a time and foregoing the last three in favour of jumping.

“ _ Lance. _ ”

He smiled apologetically at the small, stout woman in front of him. “Sorry, sorry Mama. I'm just excited.”

Her glare eased up, replaced by a look of fondness. “I'm glad you're looking forward to school. That's something I never expected to hear from a child- er, young man.”

He groaned comically at the title, and dropped his head into his hands, “Noooo. Why'd you have to say it like that? I don’t wanna be an adult, mama! It’s the literal worst!” He was laying it on thick, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it when it caused her to smile in the way that made her kind eyes crinkle at the corners.

He peeked an eye open through the cage of his fingers to gauge her reaction and she laughed, “Okay baby boy. Go eat breakfast before you leave, your father made pancakes.”

“With chocolate chips?” He asked hopefully, still pouting.

“You know your father.”

This time, when he cheered, he made very little effort to keep it in. He celebrated openly, hugging his mom and giving her an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek, dancing a little on his way to the kitchen and not settling down until he finally sat down at the kitchen island with a stack of pancakes  _ soaking  _ in butter. 

He'd just dug into his first bite of chocolatey breakfast heaven when he was greeted with a smack in the head.

“What are you teaching my son,  _ Poopyhead? _ ” Ana scolded him, rinsing her plate off in the sink.

Lance rubbed his head and laughed, “That's what you get for not having enough faith in me. Sending your five year old son to wake me up… absolutely insulting.”

“I’m insulting? You're the one that keeps teaching my child to call people names!”

“Not people, just you.”

This time he barely managed to avoid the smack, cackling all the while.

“If he gets in trouble with his Pre-K teacher because of you, I swear-”

Lance cut her off, “-oh it's fine, look.” Through a mouthful of pancake he called out for Mateo.

The little boy came shuffling into the kitchen moments later, holding a Cars blanket around his shoulders like a cape.

“Matty,” Lance began, somber, “You know not to stick your tongue out or call anyone at school a poopyhead, right?”

Mateo chortled, “No, silly. Just mommy.”

The little boy waited expectantly for approval and when Lance broke into a fit of laughter, he looked satisfied.

“See? Not people, just you. He's my little messenger.”

“You can go watch your cartoons now baby. I'll get you ready in a minute,” Ana interjected. It took very little prompting for her son to take back off to the living room where Mickey Mouse Clubhouse surely awaited him.

As soon as he was out of sight Ana gave Lance a not-so-gentle smack on the arm. “You two are gonna be the death of me. Screw finding a new apartment, you kids are gonna kill me before I can even start looking!”

“Now don’t be dramatic,” Lance prodded, which prompted his sister to raise her hand to swat at him again. He scooted away with one last laugh and then continued to shovel food into his mouth.

“Ready for your first official day of classes?”Ana inquired, changing the subject.

The food turned dry in his mouth and he struggled a moment to force it down. He allowed her a subdued smile, betraying a hint of his nervousness in the gesture. 

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

  
  
  
  


“Hunk, buddy, are you okay?”

Hunk fidgeted with the strings on his yellow hoodie. He had trailed off mid sentence with a sigh, as if he'd just remembered something exhausting.

“What? Yeah, no I’m fine! I just uh, couldn’t sleep well like all week. That big robotics tournament is coming up in a month and I was just- I'm having a really hard time with the coding for this one thing and I'm getting nervous I just- I need some insight. My head gets jumbled when I think about it. Like when you work on a really hard sudoku puzzle for too long and you can't even tell what you're looking at anymore and- oh man hey, you want some cookies? I made too many last night.”

“Hunk, breathe.” Lance laid a hand on his friend’s broad shoulder and took the proffered bag of cookies. “As much as I love your cookies, stress baking till three in the morning is a terrible idea. You're gonna be fine, buddy. You've got  _ weeks _ to figure out this prototype. Take a break for a day or two to unwind and you'll be all set.”

In a more conspiring tone he continued, “We could go out Friday night, hit the town, do some  _ soul searching,  _ if you know what I mean...” Lance gave a comical wink and waved a pen in Hunk’s face to solidify his point.

Hunk responded with a martyred expression and a groan.

“C’mon, buddy! We could sneak into a club, flirt with some nice girls or-”

Lance was cut off as he jostled somebody’s shoulder, “Oh hey sor-” he stopped as he looked up at the person’s already retreating figure. His memory sparked immediately as he spotted the long black hair on the nape of the guy’s neck and felt his eyes narrow accusingly.

“Did you see that Hunk? I bet he did that on purpose, the jerk.”

Hunk looked between Lance and the stranger, confused at the sudden change in demeanor, “What? Dude, that was totally an accident.  _ You  _ bumped into  _ him _ . Who is that guy, anyway? You know him?”

“ _ Duh!  _ That's  _ Keith.  _ I'd recognize that stupid mullet anywhere. He's been out to get me since freshman year of high school!”

Lance angrily tore into the bag of cookies, chomping down on one, “I'm so peeved I can’t even focus on how delicious these are,” he grumbled.

“Uh… thanks, I think. What do you mean he's out to get you? He seemed to be a pretty apathetic dude to me.”

“Oh he's apathetic alright, Mr. Cool Emo Loner with his dumb hair and stupid scowl, always trying to one up me on grades and  _ everything. _ Man, I hate that guy-” Lance responded through a mouthful of oatmeal raisin cookies, “-God, I'm so mad and these are so  _ good.” _

__ Hunk just furrowed his brows and jumped to change the topic, “So who is your next class with again?” 

Lance squeaked, too distressed to be embarrassed by the noise, and swung his bag over his shoulder to search for his schedule. He halted midstep to sit down and struggle with the zipper.

Hunk stood a few feet ahead of him, only half turning to look back, “side pocket, Lance.”

He watched with amusement as his friend located the orange slip of paper, untangled his limbs, and sprang back up from the ground, backpack slung over his shoulder in one motion. “Hunk, you are my savior. The sun to my moon. First cookies and now this? Promise me if we don't find our soulmates, you'll marry me.”

Hunk laughed, mostly glad the momentary Keith Thing was forgotten, “Take me on a date first, will you Lance? This is all so sudden.”

Lance jokingly made kissy faces at him before shifting his gaze back to his schedule, “C’mon bro. At the very least for the tax benefits… Ugh, I've got Throk. I hear he's a jerk.”

“For colonial history? Man that blows. I don't trust that guy. He's got these beady little eyes…” Hunk shivered. “I met him at orientation and he gives me the creeps. I'm glad I don't have him. What's with History teachers having that weird militant vibe? I swear every single one I had until this point has been a football coach that runs their practices and classes like a drill sergeant.”

“Dude, yeah. Remember Mr. Iverson? He literally used to  _ be _ a drill sergeant. I swear he hated my guts.”

“That was because you were always drawing on yourself or goofing off in his class, dude.” 

“That's beside the point. I aced his class but I swear he made it twice as difficult for me because he hated me. Anyway, who do you have for history then?” Lance inquired and let his eyes roam over the campus. He'd had his first class at nine thirty that morning but because of his weird schedule he had a bunch of extra time in between his Monday classes. 

Before he met up with Hunk, he’d spent some time in the computer lab trying to log into his school email and failing once again. He was just coming back from the main office after getting help on printing out his book list when he'd run into Hunk, who had just gotten out of his 10:00 class. They'd walked just a few minutes down the road to get a coffee from McDonalds and since then, Hunk had been showing him around campus. He’d taken to filling him on his professors as they strolled around to make up for Lance’s confusion after having missed orientation. But by now it had ended up with the two wandering around the courtyard and engineering building, Hunk talking animatedly about the surprisingly good equipment the school had despite only being a community college. 

They hadn't gotten to catch up all summer because of Lance’s summer job and babysitting for his sister when she had to move out of her apartment, and with Hunk’s summer classes it was duly impossible for the two best buds to find time to hang out. Except for Lance’s birthday when Hunk had stopped by for dinner (he'd even baked him a cake!), Lance hadn't seen him all summer. Which meant there was a lot of sharing to be had.

Needless to say, Lance’s next class started in twenty minutes and he still had no clue where to go.

Hunk’s voice snapped Lance back to reality, “... he’s a nice guy.”

A blink, “Sorry, what was that, buddy? I zoned,” what Lance needed was to get some sleep. No amount of coffee was going to do a thing for his attention span. In fact, he was almost positive it would just make him even more jittery and unfocused.

“I said I've got Professor Smythe for World History. He's kinda weird and has this funny accent; it's either some kinda British or Australian? Dunno, I’m bad at accents.. But anyway! He's kinda like... the textbook definition of someone's wacky uncle. I swear he came straight out of some book or tv show. He's intense but he's a nice guy. You'd think he's great.”

Lance huffed, “Man, I already like that guy more than Throk... I wonder if it's too late to switch classes..”

“No clue, but for now, let me show you where Throk’s is. I gotta go soon and your next class is coming up too.”

An unintelligible noise of distress escaped Lance’s lips at the reminder, “I’m gonna die before the day ends, Hunk.”

“Okay, drama queen. So… most of your classes will be in the main building because as you've seen, the other one is mostly for science and engineering…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope y'all enjoy this. Please feel free to leave kudos, drop a comment, whatever. Tell me what you like or what you hate about my writing. Typos? Anything not make sense? I'll edit or explain in order to clarify. Thanks for reading, if you did. 
> 
> (Bonus: a note i had in the original google doc for myself to remember what chapter two should be like. So if you're curious, read below)-
> 
> The first day went without a hitch…. Despite sleep deprivation.. the next day, not so much???  
> Stay tuned for…  
>  Lance’s reaction when he realizes he and his arch rival, Keith, share two of five classes together  
> Hunk finds a solution to his robotics problem??  
> More soulmate stuff! (Why didn’t Lance write a greeting to his soulmate this morning? Are we EVER going to find out whether his soulmate responded?) Maybe we'll find out in the next installment of… “This Was Supposed to be a Silly, Slightly Angsty Strictly Klance Oneshot But is Evolving Into a Silly, Potentially Very Angsty Multi Chapter Fic With Highlights of Other Character’s Backstories and Ships” !!)
> 
> Just a note: Lance calls his mother “mom” and “mama” interchangeably because that's something I do haha. I didn't mean to but it crossed over into my writing o o p s


	3. Just Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is a little longer than the first two? What do y'all think of the length? Do you want me to put more content in each chapter? Is it okay as is? I know the pacing is a little slow right now but as the plot builds I plan to speed it up some more. Cause I've noticed I've been starting up all my chapters with Lance waking up in the morning and going about his day and that can get a little... tired.  
> Worry not! I'm gonna start switching up the scenery from now on! Have fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The title for this chapter may be a little reference to Next to Normal. I don't reference it in the chapter though. Unless you count the fact that Everything Is Not Okay but they're all Pretending It Is.)
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated and I hope you enjoy!  
> This chapter was late and I'm so sorry. I think I'm going to have to stick to a bi-weekly schedule after all because I'm swamped between work and college. Still, I hope you stick with me through this hot mess!

     The next day, Lance slept for a whole ten and a half hours. His first class didn't start until 12:40 so he had plenty of time to get ready and still sleep in. After such a long day, he felt absolutely rejuvenated, finally getting the proper beauty sleep he'd missed out on the night before. He'd even taken the time to do his full skincare routine that morning; just finishing rubbing moisturizer thoroughly into his skin as he emerged from the bathroom in only a towel. He sprawled out haphazardly on his bed and counted the minutes he had until class, perfectly timing his arrival.

     If he left in half an hour he could take the twenty minute drive to school and still have ten minutes to hang out in the lounge, maybe grab a coffee from that cafe he’d driven by hundreds of times but never stopped in. If it turned out nice maybe he and Hunk could frequent it- after all, McDonald's just wouldn't cut it all the time. Lance could feel his pores clogging just at the thought of it.

     He wondered if he could talk Hunk into packing him lunches if the cafe didn't pan out well. “I could pay him… or help him buy parts for his robot… awh man I wonder if he’s doing alright with that. He was pretty freaked out yesterday.”

     Lance choked on his words at a squeal in the other room. He hadn’t realized he’d been talking out loud until the sentence shriveled in his throat. Raising his voice enough to be heard through the walls, he called out, “Mateo, is your mama harassing you?”

     “Shut up Lance!” Came Ana’s immediate reply. After a beat, he heard another squeal and raucous laughter, followed with his sister’s voice teasing, “maybe the tickle monster will stop if you let me get your socks on, kiddo!”

     Lance let out a content sigh. He’d been worried about his sister. When her fiancé left her alone with Mateo, she was devastated. Then no more than two weeks later she was laid off from her job when her company switched owners. With no other support and no job, she’d been forced to move out of her small, two bedroom apartment and back into their childhood home with their parents. It had been rough for her. Even now, a month later, she was still recovering from the aftermath of such a sudden change. But true to the Castillo-McClain temperament, she took everything in stride. When he’d tentatively approached her about the whole Raphael situation she claimed she didn’t blame him for leaving to search for his soulmate, just that she couldn't believe he’d cut out Mateo entirely to do so. However calmly she held herself, there was a sharp edge to her voice that warned him to drop it. She couldn’t afford to break down, not with a son to raise and definitely not with the fear of burdening their loving parents with unneeded stress. 

     Still, the selfish part of Lance’s brain loved having a full house again. The constant stimulation kept him from going stir crazy, whether it came in the form of playing with his nephew, taunting his sister, or the family meals that had recently become a regular occurrence for the first time in months.

     It took another moment of musing before the sound of Ana’s car starting broke Lance out of his reverie. A glance at the clock brought him back to his senses. He had ten minutes to get dressed and eat. How so much time had passed so quickly astounded him but he was too busy scurrying to find an outfit to wear to give it much thought.

     After tossing on a pair of rolled up jeans and a white t-shirt he sprayed on his favourite cologne (“subtle, yet alluring.”) and rushed downstairs to the kitchen. He poured himself a bowl of reese’s puffs and chomped down mouthfuls while running around to make sure he had all of his stuff ready. Binder? Check. Laptop  _ and  _ charger? Check. Phone? Of freakin’ course. Extra pens and pencils? Got it. 

     He paused with the last spoonful halfway to his mouth. His old favourite blue sharpie sat on the dining room table next to a stack of mail, almost mocking him. Suddenly, his tongue felt dry and that last bite looked a lot less than appetizing. A pang. A knot formed in his stomach.

_      Don’t think about it, don’t think about it... _

     Lance took the marker and shoved it into a junk drawer, trying to swallow down his nausea as he finished his late breakfast. Today was going to be great.

     It had to be great.

  
  


* * *

 

 

     Today was definitely  _ not  _ great.  He’d thrown off his schedule by taking too long to brush his teeth because he’d zoned out and then had to frantically search for his left shoe as he hurried out the door. And of course, while he was on his way, he’d gotten stuck at a red light merely a minute away from his school and two minutes before his class started.

     Now, standing in the doorway of his new Career and Educational Planning class, trying to hide the fact that he was slightly winded, he felt hot embarrassment rise to his cheeks. Because everyone was staring, even his professor. Because the small room was full, save for one seat in the back next to none other than  _ Keith fricken Kogane _ who was the only one that  _ wasn’t  _ looking at him, which was somehow worse. Like he couldn’t be bothered with the distraction. 

     “Exactly on time. You’re lucky, Mr…”

     “Castillo. Er-” his face got ever redder, “McClain, sir.”

     His professor glanced down at his attendance sheet and gestured with his free arm-his prosthetic arm, Lance noted- for him to sit down. Next to Keith.

     He schooled his expression into a clear mask of indifference as he plopped down in his seat. He managed to stifle his groan for the time being but like hell he wouldn't complain about this to Hunk later. Hopefully over lunch at that cafe. Then they could hang out for the next handful of hours before they shared their 2D art class and Lance could forget about how his Tuesdays and Thursdays would suffer now that he discovered he had a class with Grumpy McAngry Pants. 

     Okay, so maybe he'd spent too much time making fun of his sister with Mateo. That aside, he just hoped Keith didn't try and make his morning worse than it already was.

     He glared out of the corner of his eye at Keith who was slightly turned away from him, eyes boring into the corner of the smart screen that covered a sizable expanse of the opposite wall as if he was considering punching a Keith-shaped hole through it and escaping. He seemed more on edge than usual and a darting glance to the teacher now standing at the forefront of the class proved that Lance wasn't the only one who noticed. 

     The professor looked directly at Keith, eyebrows furrowed with concern, before he addressed the class. Despite seemingly not paying attention, Keith shifted minutely, leaning even further into the wall. It sparked a weird feeling in Lance’s gut to see anyone look as cagey as Keith did at that moment.  _ Jeez, what’s this guy's deal? _

     “I guess this is where I should welcome you all to the class and talk for the next hour about what is expected of you- and we will!” He chuckled. “...More or less. It’s required so bear with me. I’ll try not to bore you. First off, feel free to call me Shiro. I want this class to have less of a feel of a lecture and more of a… discussion. So I want you to feel comfortable enough to participate. If I call on you today, I’d like you to state your name so that I can familiarize myself.” Shiro’s gaze swept the room, briefly catching once again on Keith before continuing over Lance and down the row. He passed out small packets, syllabi probably, to each table and motioned for them to  _ take one, pass it on. _

     Lance’s mind zoned in on Shiro’s prosthetic. He didn't mean to, really, but curiosity got the best of him. He wondered how exactly Shiro had lost his arm or whether he’d ever had one in the first place. He’d noticed that the prosthetic itself was actually fully functional; the fingers moved like that of any real hand, which was quite interesting to Lance.  _ Hunk would love that. He’d freak. I wonder how Shiro got his hands- er, hand on that thing. Man, that’s actually pretty badass... _

     An insistent tapping wormed its way into Lance’s daydreaming and he twitched in annoyance, searching for the source. Shiro’s words drowned out as Lance scanned the room. Everyone else seemed to be flipping boredly through their syllabus or staring intently up at their admittedly attractive professor. Keith still seemed to be looking anywhere but at Shiro or anyone else in the room. He wasn’t glancing at the clock but it was obvious he wanted out. Especially with the way he seemed to be stamping a tattoo into the desk with his pen.

     For once, Lance found  _ he  _ was the one annoyed by the restless energy emanating from his seat neighbour.

     Before he could bite his tongue, he mumbled, “There's a door, you know. You can just leave if you don't want to be here.”  _ It’d make  _ my  _ life easier, at the very least. _

     Keith’s posture stayed the same, the only difference was that the tapping stopped and his eyes flitted to Lance’s face. Mullet’s scowl deepened to an almost grimace as his eyes met Lance’s for one burning moment. Lance felt taken aback when those deep indigo eyes met his. He felt for a second that he’d been sucked into the void of space. Dark emotion swirled there even though his posture screamed “Apathy! Boundaries!” 

     It forced his heart rate to elevate and his palms to sweat. He tried to shake off the  _ flight flight flight  _ response it triggered in his brain to be privy to something so intense.  _ Eyes are windows to the soul, huh? How fucking terrifying. _

     He swallowed hard, expecting that maybe Keith would retaliate. He wished he hadn’t said anything. He tried to convince himself his imagination was still going off on a tangent, that Keith was just being grumpy and emo.  _ I should have shut my mouth. _

     But instead, Keith took a deep breath and shifted, jaw clenching, but otherwise finally focusing on Shiro.

     Lance let out a breath he hadn't realized he’d been holding and swallowed down a bit of nausea for the second time that day. Today was definitely not going well. This class was going to be ruined for him for the rest of the semester. Of that he was almost convinced.

 

     At the end of class, Keith bolted immediately, walking from the room with purpose the moment it was concluded. Lance lingered a bit longer than everyone else, taking his time to put away his laptop and binder. He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t walk into Keith again that day.

     Hunk, thankfully, agreed wholeheartedly to lunch at the cafe. He had gone there a handful of times over the summer and the whole ride there he did nothing but rave about how good the food was and how he was determined to try everything on the menu at least once. “I had this amaaaazzzing passion fruit and strawberry iced tea there last time? Oh my  _ gosh,  _ Lance. You’re gonna love it.”

     Lance was just glad that his plan to turn Café d’Altea into their regular chill spot seemed to be a go before they even got there.

     “At least one thing is going right today,” Lance grumbled under his breath. He no longer felt like ranting about Keith. At this point he just wanted to get past it.

     “What was that?” 

     Lance threw his buddy a quick smile as he turned into the café’s parking lot. “Nothing, buddy. I’m just really hungry. What do you suggest for today then, Master Chef?”

     Hunk grinned, “I know exactly what you’ll love. Are you in the mood for chocolate?”

     Lance paused as he pulled the car into park and then turned to look directly at Hunk. “Yeah... I think I could use something sweet right now.”

 

     They were on their way back to the school when Lance saw him. He was really just glancing over on Hunk’s side to check his rear view mirror. The guy behind him was being a prick, riding his ass as if five over the speed limit wasn’t pushing the boundaries of Just Legal Enough. 

     But that glance was enough. Lance caught sight of an obnoxiously red hoodie and black hair. He had no real proof as to how he knew, if he knew, who it was. When he pulled up to the red light he attempted to look back, snag another glimpse of the sulking figure, but he was just too far away.

     Still, he was positive it was  _ him.  _

     His first instinct was to crack a joke about it- because  _ of fucking course Keith was hanging out in a graveyard.  _ But then he remembered the stormy look in those unsettling purple eyes that morning and bit back the knee jerk reaction. He didn’t quite get it but he could feel it in the way his stomach twisted that it was something he couldn’t laugh about.

     When they arrived back in the main lobby and student lounge of the college Lance plopped down in a big, comfy chair and kicked back with his headphones in. This chair and the matching couch were his favourites; they softened all the sharp edges of his bones. It felt like sinking into a cloud.

     He was debating whether to nap when he was startled to attention by a tap on his knee. 

     His wide navy eyes met Hunk’s soft brown ones and then drifted to where his best friend was gesturing. 

     “Oh, Mr. Shiroga- ah, I mean, Shiro!” Lance sat bolt upright and attempted to lay on some charm, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

_      Oh fricken quiznak that sounded sarcastic. Stupidity: ten. Lance: zero. _

     He was sure his big dumb mouth had gotten him into yet another fix that day when his CEP teacher beckoned him to the empty computer lab. He wondered what he could have done during class that might of gotten him into trouble. Did he accidentally blurt something? Did he stare at his professors  _ cool ass _ prosthetic too openly? He didn’t know how to tell him he was just wondering how it worked without knowing if his teacher was comfortable with him asking about it or not-

     “I’d like to thank you.”

     Lance’s eyes, which had taken on an owlish, glassy look in his panic grew somehow wider still. “I’m sorry… what?”

     “It is not my place to tell you anything personal, however, I was worried about Keith today. Whatever you said to him really seemed to have an effect on him. His focus was much better today than I had expected. I’d like to thank you for being a part of that.”

     Now Lance was  _ really   _ fidgeting. This was the last thing he had been expecting when Shiro said he wanted to talk to him. “Honestly, I didn’t say much. In fact, I am pretty sure he hates my guts. I was worried he’d punch me??” The last part lilted into a question as he trailed off.

     Shiro, a never ending bag of surprises, Lance was finding, just chuckled and pat him on the shoulder before walking away without another word. His hand was warm.

 

* * *

 

     Lance couldn’t nap after that weird, brief encounter with Shiro, so he decided on scrolling through his social media feeds and listening to music as he waited for 3:40 to swing around. After an hour, Hunk got up, causing Lance to jerk up from his spot, glancing at the clock frantically to see if maybe more time had passed than he’d thought. 

     “It’s only three, buddy. Where are you going?”  _ Did I get the time wrong? _

     Hunk blinked and then rubbed his neck nervously, “Oh, I’m sorry man. I forgot to tell you. I found out that my Nutritional Health class was moved to this time and I really wanted to take that class so… I switched to Ceramics on Mondays and Wednesdays.” 

    Lance pouted dramatically, “I can’t believe you’d do this to me, bro.” He was already mourning the comfort of no longer having a class with his best friend.

     Hunk lay his hands down on Lance’s shoulders heavily. “Somebody’s gotta know something about nutrition. We both know you’re gonna be calling on me when you move out. You can’t live off of quick-bake garlic knots forever, Lance,” Hunk couldn’t help but grin when Lance’s frown wavered.

     “Garlic knots are a superfood, Hunk!” He managed to sputter at Hunk’s back as he headed off to his next class, leaving Lance with another forty minutes to mope alone before 2D Art. Though, admittedly, Lance hadn’t been very good company. He had been far too distracted- and other than popping out his earbuds to actively listen when Hunk expressed more anxiety about his robotics tournament, Lance couldn’t, for the life of him, focus.

     He stared at the robin’s egg blue walls of the student lounge and tried his best to doze, legs hanging over the armrest of the large chair he sat in. He loved the way he sunk into the old, well loved cushions; it reminded him of the couch at his grandmother’s house with it’s fraying plaid texture and creaking frame that gave a little when you sat down. He recalled laying splayed out there with a comic book while his sister sat on the floor and painted her nails over some old newspaper. Despite their age differences and constant teasing, the four siblings got along swimmingly. This particular day, Isaac and Angel had been off with their grandfather to help with some activity that Lance had been too young for and on a day Ana had deemed too hot to go out and do anything but swim. With no pool and no way to get to the beach, the two had taken up their familiar stations in the downstairs lounge room. 

     Lance loved hearing Ana talk about her soulmate as a kid. His parents had been the first to tell him about what it meant but Ana was the first he knew to write messages with a soulmate she had never met. She told him about the first time they had written to her and her skin had tingled with a curious warmth, how she watched the letters slowly fade into sight with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.  _ “It was like I could feel what they were feeling when they wrote it. That must sound really weird, huh, kiddo?” _

     Lance hadn’t thought it was weird at all. The next week he began carrying around a marker at all times, just in case he felt that same warmth on his own skin-

     Lance’s stomach churned painfully at the memory, eyes flickering open at the sudden twist. He was starting to wonder if he actually had some sort of stomach bug with the amount of times it had bothered him today.

     With a defeated sigh, he tossed his legs back over the chair and sat upright. A glance at the clock showed that a lot more time had passed than he’d thought. He stood to go to his class before he was late when a flash of red caught his eyes from the front entrance. He felt frozen in place as Keith stormed into the foyer. And by stormed he meant slow thunder in the distance, the smell of acid rain in the air and electricity on your tongue. He had bags under his red rimmed eyes and the look in them was all heat. The rest of him was crumpled and worn, the stiff set of his shoulders almost tremoring. He looked like he’d been crying.

     Lance wasn’t sure what to make of this wounded animal Keith. After seeing him the day before, he’d expected the usual stoic, condescending glare he knew from high school. It had only been a few months since they’d graduated and although Keith had been out of school with a tutor the last month and hadn’t shown up to graduation, he couldn’t believe the guy would change so quickly in a matter of months. He vaguely wondered if Keith had perhaps taken up crack over the summer but then suppressed the notion- even Lance knew he wasn’t the type. He had to stop himself from wondering what was really going on and instead made his feet move him toward his next class. Curiosity about Keith was a particular danger that Lance knew to stay away from. He’d effectively killed that cat years ago.

     Hesitantly, he followed down the same hall Keith had sulked down, hoping it didn’t look like he was following. He started down just as Keith turned the corner.

_      It’s okay Lancey Lance. This is a small campus. There’s literally only one hall to turn onto. It’s not like you  _ mean  _ to follow him. _

     That is, until he rounded the corner to his next class and of course, was met immediately with the shock of black hair and signature red hoodie.

     “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

     Lance blinked as the words came out of their own accord. There were no more than six other people in the room but all of them turned to look up at him. He glanced away before those startling indigo eyes met his and fumbled for a cover up. Thankfully, Lance’s mouth clicked shut as the professor quietly bumbled past him, carrying a bag full of art supplies. 

     Before he could come up with an excuse, she began speaking in a soft, bubbly voice, “This is my 2D Art class, yeah?”

     A woman in the front that could have been in her early to mid- twenties gave a smile and a nod. The professor, reassured, looked through an attendance list, “It’s silly that they have us doing attendance now, like you’re middle schoolers, but it’ll help me memorize your names at least. So, let’s start with that then.”

     Belatedly, Lance thought to sit down.

_      It’s dangerous, Lance. Don’t do it. _

     But that was silly because even rabid Keith with his rubbed red, starless night sky eyes was just a person. How dangerous could a person with awful, tousled emo kid hair and a ratty old hoodie really be?

     He plopped down a seat away.

_      He’s the same old jerk from highschool. You can handle this.  _

     Lance turned his eyes toward the teacher, doing his best to pay attention as she highlighted the syllabus, droning on apologetically about the required research paper and excitedly when mentioning the gallery visit. But his skin buzzed whenever he heard Keith shift only a couple feet away, twirling a pen with quick fingers or tapping his heel impatiently. He tried to ignore that he was stupidly aware of everytime Keith’s jaw tweaked in his peripheral, every glance at the clock.

     Keith seemed about ready to crawl out of his skin, full of a restless energy that rivaled even Lance’s need to move. By the end of the lecture Lance found that he hadn’t managed to process a single word she’d said.

     “Well, we’ve still got about twenty minutes, so I’m gonna have you sketch a quick still life. Please look to the little arrangements I’ve got set up at the end of each table. I’m sure you’ve already noticed them.” Lance had actually  _ not  _ noticed them at all. He turned his gaze to the setup next to him. A vase of flowers next to a bowl of small gourds. A second glance showed that shells were arranged strategically around the base of the flower pot.

     Lance grinned a bit, despite himself. He wasn’t really the best at drawing, but it was fun and he liked the smooth tan conchshells the professor had picked out. Being able to focus on one thing and keep his hands busy was another plus-the hyperawareness of his edgy rival was starting to agitate him. He was going to blow the socks off his professor, if not with pure artistic skill, then with his creativity. 

 

     Once again, Keith was gone as soon as the professor gave them the signal that class was over. Lance was starting to get annoyed. It may be a small college, but the professors seemed really nice and the classes were small and easy to work in. Yet Keith, stupid Keith, was acting like he’d rather be  _ anywhere else. _ As if the stupid jerk couldn’t have gotten a full ride to some big, fancy school. If he didn’t want to be here, he didn’t have to be such a snooty ass about it. It was so  _ rude _ .

     Because he wanted to make up for Keith’s quick retreat and because he wanted to finish his sketch, Lance stayed even as the professor started to pack up her things and leave. As she passed, she glanced down at his drawing, “Oh! Very nice! Sort of abstract. I love the defying gravity idea. Very neat shells. Next class we’ll be colouring them with coloured pencils, yeah? So don’t forget to bring those.”

     A goofy grin split open on his face, “Of course, m’lady. I’ll snag some from my nephew’s stash, no problem.”

     She chuckled and pat him on the shoulder as she passed by. Lance decided he was going to like this class, to hell with Keith.

     He glanced at his syllabus and committed the professor’s name to memory with a content smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 Kudos and Comments are always appreciated.


	4. Just Keep Pretending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this update is so dissapointingly short AND late. Last week was spring break and I was keeping myself busy with friends and the week before that was midterms and.... well, y'know how it goes. Please forgive me. I'm gonna try and crank this story out a lot faster from now on as the plot gets going

“Lance.  _ Lance! _ Are you paying attention??? I said I’ve figured it out!”

Lance adjusted the phone he held to his ear with his shoulder as he struggled to hold Mateo still, “Sorry, man. Yeah! I’m listening! Just uh- gimme a sec...”

The phone slipped to the floor with a thud and Lance sent Hunk a silent apology as he finally managed to slip a clean shirt over his nephew’s head. “Jeez Louise, kid! I know you think he’s cool, but it’s too chilly to be Tarzan! Your mama would kill me if I let you run around without a shirt- Hey!” He snatched his nephew up in his arms and spun around with him, blowing raspberries into his belly, “What did I say little man? You gotta keep the shirt on! C’mon, look! It’s a cool space shirt!” He poked at the rocket circling the moon on the middle of Mateo’s shirt, “You can be Buzz Lightyear!”

The child just giggled and pushed at his uncle’s face until he was forced to set him down for fear of dropping him. 

“Okay. Now you go play. And if I find you runnin’ around  _ naked. Again.  _ I’m telling your mommy on you,” Lance stuck out his tongue, an action that had Mateo roaring with laughter as he dashed away to make a mess of his toy box.

Lance grinned to himself for a moment before remembering the conversation he’d abandoned. He scrambled to scoop up his phone and press it to his ear, “Sorry, man. Mateo—“

“Hey, no problem,” Hunk reassured before Lance could finish his apology. “Boy Wonder’s causing a ruckus again, huh? Maybe I’ll come down and drop off his favourite cookies sometime.”

Lance laughed, “S’mores? You’d better do it on a day when Ana’s home so  _ she  _ can get him when he’s all riled up.” A pause. “So what’s the solution to your problem, Mr. Roboto?”

Hunk groaned, “ _ Good one _ . But anyway, the solution is Pidge.”

Lance pushed back his cuticles with a thumbnail, “Hunk, y’know I think your robots are supercool but you gotta explain all this techie jargon to me. I have no clue what the heck a  _ Pidge  _ is except maybe like… a pokemon.”

A deep and sudden laugh had Lance holding the phone slightly away from his ear as a feeling of embarrassment crept up his face. “-A person!” Hunk chortled, “Pidge isn’t jargon. They’re a person. A person who knows just how to code a- hahaha OMG i’m sorry. That just cracked me up a bit, man- they… they offered to help me with my prototype for the competition. I can’t remember how it got brought up. They’re in some of my classes. Apparently, they graduated two years early. Pidge is like- a baby, bro. Like… a really  _ smart _ baby who’s the solution to all my problems!”

“Hunk, that’s so cool! I gotta meet them!”

Though he was sure Pidge was a reasonably sized human being and he knew they’d only be a couple years younger than him, Lance couldn’t help but imagine Pidge as an actual baby, paired with Albert Einstein hair and big round glasses. The thought made him let out a loud snort- “Oh my god yeah I  _ have  _ to meet them.”

Hunk chuckled along until a sudden shout was heard on his end of the line, “Ah, sorry, man. My mom’s calling me over. I’ll see you Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah. Have a good one, buddy. Maybe we can drag Pidge along to the cafe sometime and you can give me your Smart Cooties.”

“I thought I told you to take me on a date before you started making moves on me, bro! And Pidge is an infant! How could you say such a thing, man!” Hunk teased.

“Ohmy _ god _ ,  _ Hunk.  _ First of all, technically, it’d already  _ be  _ a date. A coffee date! Two, I meant you should let me copy your old math notes- I’ve still gotta take that placement test… Three, if you saw the mental image I just had of Pidge as an  _ actual baby  _ with Albert Einstein hair and the whole works, you’d know I’d  _ never _ -” he was playing into it, he knew. But Lance was having too much fun.

“ _ Lance,”  _ Hunk’s laugh filled Lance’s ears and he grinned, “Okay, really though. I have to go. See you later.”

“Catch ya.”

  
  


Dinner at the Castillo-McClain household was once again a spectacle to behold, now that Ana was back at home. Not that it had been lacking when it was just Lance and his parents, but the addition of his sister and Mateo made it all the more dynamic.

Tonight, Mateo had insisted on switching between sitting on Lance’s and Ana’s laps and stealing bites of their food rather than eat from his own plate.

Lance had begged for a lasagna night, wanting nothing more than to shove his face  full with pasta and warm, buttery garlic knots, and his mother had smiled and complied- “I guess we should celebrate your first successful week in college, huh?”

Which led to this moment, sitting with Mateo in his lap, trying to snatch back his beloved garlic knots from his nephew’s little devil hands.

“C’mon Little Man! Your mama cut some up for you, why you gotta slobber all over  _ mine? _ ” Lance darted a pleading look to his sister, “ _ Please save my garlic knots from your mini tyrant.” _

Ana just shot him a smug grin and swallowed down a huge mouthful of pasta, “I’m sorry, what was that,  _ poopyhead? _ ”

At that, Mateo giggled and held out his hand to his mother for a high five before hopping back onto her lap, taking that hunk of Lance’s garlicky heaven with him.

“The utter  _ betrayal _ . I thought we were a team, lil’ dude!” 

“He played you good.”

“He learned all my tricks and then turned them on me! A… a  _ snake _ like his  _ mother _ !” Lance gasped dramatically.

Their mother’s laugh cut through their bantering, “You two never stop.” Ana and Lance shared a playful glare as she continued, “You’ve both been so busy, your father and I never get to ask you how you’ve been holding up.”

Ana went strangely silent, but Lance didn’t notice because he was already jumping into an animated explanation of his week. His parents laughed at all the right moments; he managed to cut out a lot of parts with Keith- he didn’t want to get into an angry rant about his weird behaviour all week, or admit just how much he paid attention to his rival to  _ notice  _ in the first place- and Mateo finally settled down. Lance noticed that his nephew had pulled his chair closer to his mother’s. Ana was smiling down on him fondly, not paying attention when Lance brought up something they’d been debating earlier that week. He went to smack her arm but halfway through the movement, he caught the soft look his sister had and let his sentence trail off. 

“Well… anyway. What about you guys? Dad, how was work?

  
  


Mateo was crying.

Lance had given him his goodnight kisses and went back to his room for a while to work on an introductory paper while Ana tucked her son into bed. An hour had passed, mostly unproductive, and Lance had decided to take a quick break to grab a glass of water. On his way by, he’d sidled up to Mateo’s door to make sure he was sleeping. Where he’d expected quiet snores or the tell-tale shift of toys in his toybox to alert Lance that he was either awake or asleep, he instead heard muffled little sniffles. 

Just as he was about to push the slightly ajar door all the way open, he heard Ana’s voice murmuring from inside, reassuring. He paused for a moment, hand millimeters from the doorknob, but he didn’t stick around to listen- it felt like a private moment. Still, he couldn’t help but note the sad lilt to his sister’s voice and the way Mateo hiccupped as if he were trying to cover it up.

It was striking Lance just how difficult this was for the two of them. He knew it had hit Ana hard when Raphael left, but ever since she’d come back home— no, even  _ before _ she met Rafe, it had become nearly impossible to talk to her about things the way they did when they were kids. It felt like years since Lance had really known his sister and it hurt to think about.

He made his way down the stairs in a daze, playing his nephew’s sob over and over in his head. That sound held way too much sadness for such a little kid. Lance couldn’t imagine that Mateo really understood what was happening with his parents, but he didn’t know if he could chalk up the crying to a simple nightmare, either. Was there something going on with him in his Pre-K class? Was someone mean to him? Did a teacher ask about his father? Did he not know what to say about Rafe’s absence? Did he miss him?

_ You’re tired, Lance. Just get some water and finish that paper so you can sleep. You can try to talk to Ana about it later. Tomorrow.  _

He just wished she’d tell him. He knew her problems were bigger than they had been when she was just a silly fourteen year old, worried about what to write to her soulmate next. He’d realized that over five years ago when she found out she was pregnant in the first place. But after being so close to her their entire childhood, even despite a six year difference, Lance felt useless watching her struggle with this alone.

Sighing heavily, he poured himself a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen island. He really needed to finish that paper for CEP. Even though his fellow classmates said that Shiro was pretty lax about due dates as long as the content was good (and besides it was the first assignment of the semester), Lance couldn’t help but feel pressured to make a good impression. He kept replaying that Tuesday’s weird encounter in his head. It was a surprisingly warm conversation, but one that made Lance really edgy around his professor, jumping every time he heard his voice around the corner of the student lounge or whenever he’d call his name for attendance. He had this unexplainable need to impress Shiro that made it hard to relax during his classes.

Well, that and a certain grumpy seatmate…

Lance shook his head vigorously. He couldn’t afford to go down that mental pathway. Not tonight, not any night.

His head was starting to hurt. It was only about ten thirty, but he really needed the sleep. There was the rest of the weekend to complete his homework assignment, he told himself. It could wait. 

Besides, with the way his train of thought had wandered off its tracks, he probably wouldn’t get a thing done anyway.

Gulping down the last of his water, he placed the glass in the sink and slinked back toward the stairs. Barely a step over the threshold,after twisting to shut off the kitchen lights, he collided with a figure. He blinked for a second in the dark, wondering if he’d somehow turned and bumped into the wall, when his eyes focused on Ana’s willowy frame. Her posture looked defeated and tired, silhouetted against the dim nightlight in the dining room. Lance’s hands twitched at his sides, involuntarily. He wanted to sit down and talk to his sister like before. It was like he could see the weight of her exhaustion pressing down on her. He wished she’d let them help her hold it up.

Silence settled around them and Lance felt the urge to fill it crawling its way up his throat. There was nothing he could think to say, but a lot that needed to be said. Ana had that Castillo-McClain determination, but she also had the vulnerability that came with living in such a close knit family. They always talked things out- with each other, with their parents, with their friends. They  _ talked. Communicated. _ It was in their blood. He could tell it was eating her up to keep it to herself, but he didn’t want to press. If she was working so hard to keep it to herself, Lance knew at least that meant it felt too big for her, too big to burden anyone else with. 

“Did you finish that paper?” The fatigue softened to edges of her voice, erasing the usual sarcasm that laced her tone. She was going for normal, conversational. It was just a question, but the idea of making small talk with his sister in their dark kitchen Lance felt like he was trying to start a conversation with a stranger.

“Nah. I think… I think I’m going to hit the hay, y’know? This kind of beauty requires maintenance.” He faked a yawn for emphasis. Silence, and then, “If you ever need to talk about it… I- we are all here for you Ana. It… doesn’t have to be just you and Mateo.” He hoped she didn’t get the hint that he’d heard Mateo crying. He hoped she  _ did  _ and that it’d be enough to get her to open up about it. He hoped she’d wave him off and say it was just a nightmare, that none of this mattered, that they’d be fine, so he could go to bed and not worry about his nephew crying about his father or his sister worrying about how to raise her son on her own. 

Instead she shrugged one shoulder and gave a long winded sigh, like she was a balloon deflating. She squeezed his arm as she passed him, heading into the kitchen without turning the lights back on. 

Lance stood there for a moment and turned over the same thoughts he’d been ruminating on for weeks, over and over again in his head, before shutting them down and starting back up the stairs to his room. 

Before he walked away, he thought he could here his sister’s voice mumble a quiet, “I know,” and then he was racing up to his room, wanting nothing more but to chase sleep far away from the thought soulmates and his sister’s sad smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was cut short because I just... felt like that was an appropriate end to the chapter. Next ch. I'll be introducing Pidge!! Sorry! Gotta go see Love, Simon a second time with my friend!!! See ya!


	5. Just Getting Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rant Hunk goes on is based after a tangent I spewed to my best bud on the phone at like 1 am haha  
> Anyway, time to meet Holt numero uno and reintroduce you to my abuse of italics in everything I write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that y’all waited so frickin long and this is all I managed to give you. It turns out I know where I want this story to go, but I have no clue how to get there. I’m looking for a new beta now and generally anyone who is interested in brainstorming with me. The perks are: you get insight to the background of each character, privvy to the major plot points and a say in how things may occur, early chapter readings and a really lame author friend?? Comment if you’re interested in helping this poor soul out?

“Okay, but that’s not a _theory_ , Hunk. It’s been _proven_. Just not as dramatically as you’re _insinuating_.”

Hunk groaned and waved the donut in his hand dramatically, “ _Technicalities_. The point being is that we know gravity has an effect on the passage of time. I’m just _saying_ that it could be a reason why a species of aliens might overtake Earth. If they were anything like people- then the allure of having billions of test subjects that age at a seemingly rapid pace would be impossible to resist. They could get generations of research done within the equivalent of like, say, a couple decades! If the aliens came from a planet with a higher gravitational core than Earth, their lifespans would , theoretically, surpass ours. Even if they lived as long as we do proportionately! Think about it, Pidge! It’d be like how people kill flies- ‘they die in like a day, right? No big deal!’” Hunk’s voice took on a higher pitch as he went on, “Everytime I smash one of those little guys I think about it and I feel so bad- But that’s just it! Because most people don’t feel bad for flies! And neither would aliens if they decided to take over Earth and cage us here like lab rats!”

“Hold it right there, big guy,” dexterous fingers halted one turn before finishing their rubix cube to push up big, round glasses. “Now you’re just treading into the territory of baseless conspiracy theories. There were so many fundamental flaws I don’t even know where to begin. And while, yes I agree that a species of alien may hypothetically think to expiriment on other planets- after all, humans would too- I think you’re missing an important point. The evidence we’ve gathered suggests that the gravitational effect on time is more subtle. It might make seconds pass a little faster than usual but-”

“You don’t know that, Pidge! Realistically, we have only a limited access to our own galaxy, let alone the entire universe. There could be factors beyond human comprehension that exacerbate the effects of gravity!”

“I’m not saying there _isn’t_ I’m just saying we’d have to do more _resear_ -”

Lance awkwardly cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. He had shown up ten minutes prior and since Hunk and who he assumed must be Pidge were already there, deep in discussion, he’d decided to grab a cappuccino before making his way over to them. Needless to say, he spent the past five minutes half trying to understand what they were talking about and half trying to find a way to butt in and introduce himself. The only seat not taken held a heavy looking backpack and the small round table was subject to a hefty looking device that, if you could call it that, Lance assumed to be some sort of laptop. The little waif of a genius cut off mid-sentence to glare daggers at him and Lance wondered briefly how it was that Hunk thought they’d get along. It didn’t even look like they were getting along with _Hunk_ and they were the ones that were _friends_. Er, acquaintances.

Still, part of him wanted to laugh because aside from the fact that Pidge looked more like a fourteen year old rather than a two year old, they fit his mental image of them to a T.

Short, disheveled-looking light brown hair that looked like it was carelessly hacked with safety scissors and rivaled Einstein himself, oversized round glasses with thin wire frames that barely fit on their small, sloped nose, and a vocabulary that made Lance’s brain scramble to keep up. He really did almost laugh. Almost. The look Pidge leveled him with was deadly.

“We didn’t order any more drinks, dude,” they deadpanned.

Lance sputtered, looking down at the drink in his hand and then back at them. He could barely muster a frazzled comeback before Hunk snorted. “Pidge, no. This is _Lance_. Lance my _best friend_ Lance.”

Pidge’s owlish eyes blinked at him, unimpressed. “My bad.”

 _That didn’t sound very apologetic_ , Lance mused but decided to let it slide.

“What’d you get this time?” Hunk supplied, ever the peacemaker.

Lance glanced down at the drink in his hand and sheepishly avoided eye contact with Pidge, still unable to say a word to the tiny devil. He’d been prepared to open up with his Castillo-McClain charm, maybe crack a clever joke. _That_ plan had been sufficiently quashed. Now, he was at a loss. His cheeks warmed, “I was trying to order quick since I noticed you guys were already over here.. I’m not even really sure what this is to be quite honest. I asked for a cappuccino with something sweet in it,” the cashier had looked at him with a raised brow and he’d found himself a bit smitten by the challenging expression. She’d had nice, soft features and the sassiness of the look conflicted with them in a very pretty way. He’d found himself leaning in a bit and flirtatiously mumbling, “Surprise me.”

Not that he’d say that with Pidge already glaring him down. He had a feeling they’d be extremely unimpressed by his suave demeanor. He didn’t think he could take another hit to his pride after already getting off on the wrong footing.

Before he could say anything that could actually _warrant_ Pidge’s hostile gaze, he took an expirimental sip of his drink. Then made a face. “It… this tastes like toffee.”

Hunk looked disappointed for him. Lance _hated_ toffee.

“Maybe you should have taken the time to order something you like. It’s not like we were going to leave any time soon.”

Lance’s face warmed, embarrassed, even though there was really nothing to be embarrassed about. “It doesn’t hurt to be a little adventerous sometimes-“

“I’d hardly call that adventurous,” Pidge scoffed.

“ _Guys_.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. He’d hardly realized he was leaning forward until Hunk put a hand on his shoulder. He pouted a bit, but relented. “You never told me Pidge was a little gremlin, buddy.”

“Hey! This ‘ _gremlin_ ’ can hear you, you know!”

Lance’s pout turned into a sly smirk, “They really _are_ a baby though.”

“What the hell!”

This, Lance could do. Teasing was something he was good at and it was relaxing, seeing Pidge take the bait. They seemed more approachable that way. Like a little sibling.

Lance decided he’d like Pidge after all. Maybe they’d give him advice on his science homework next semester if he could warm up to them by then…

“How old are you, then?” Lance conceded, addressing them directly again. Hunk looked cautious, worried about the uncertain interaction between his two friends.

Pidge scowled, “fifteen.”

“Wait I thought Hunk said you graduated two years early. Not three.”

Pidge rolled their eyes, “I started school a year early. I would have graduated at seventeen at a normal rate.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “How are you only at the Garrison then? Why a community college and not some hot-shot university?”

Pidge’s frown deepened. “It’s none of your business, Lance.”

“C’mon it was just a que-”

“I said drop it.”

Lance made brief eye contact with Hunk, who only shrugged, signalling Lance to just move on.

He glanced down at the seat, taken over by the bag and then decided to just pull a chair over.

When he turned, that familiar flash of red caught his eye.

_No, not now. C’mon, man. What more can go wrong today? It can’t be him._

Oh, but it was.

Keith stood there, arms crossed, tapping a beat on his own skin with a gloved hand. He looked a little uncomfortable standing in line, but when he looked at the person to the left of him, a small almost-smile crept….

“Is that Shiro!?” Lance dramatically stage whispered, whirling around to swat at Hunk’s arm. “Why are Shiro and Keith at the cafe together?”

Pidge glanced over Lance’s shoulder, “Who’s Keith?”

“I don’t know, man maybe they just bumped into each other.”

“Shiro doesn’t have a class today.”

“Maybe he just lives out here. He probably has a different job or something and is stopping by for coffee. And Altea is the best cafe in town, so that’d obviously be the number one choice! I’d know!”

Lance narrowed his eyes, ready to defend his outburst, but before he could speak, Pidge cut in again, “ _Who’s Keith_?”

Lance froze, mouth hanging open and pointer finger up in an almost scolding position. His eyes darted to Pidge’s frame, small shoulders raised up and fists clenched in frustration, like they were about to throw a tantrum for being ignored. Any other time, Lance would have snorted, but the mention of Keith made his blood boil all the more, drowning out all other thoughts.

“Keith is my rival!” Lance blurted without a second thought.

Hunk swatted at Lance’s hand, “Don’t yell like that! What if they hear?”

Pidge’s face contorted in a somewhat disbelieving, amused expression. “Rival? You sound like a bad anime protagonist.”

“Says the person whose name sounds like a freaking Pokemon!”

Pidge’s face flushed a little bit.

“Oh my god, you guys. _Stop_. I can’t take you anywhere! We’re gonna get kicked out!Then I’ll be banned from the best coffee joint in town and it’ll be all your fault! I refuse to ride twenty minutes out of town to settle for a crappy drink from Starbucks!” Hunk looked panicked, but it did the trick.

Lance rocked back on his heels a bit and looked around. A lot of the crowd had dwindled, but one or two of the customers were sneaking curious glances over. He chanced a look toward the register, where the cute cashier met his gaze. She had an entertained crinkle to her eye that made Lance blush. His mouth reeked with the taste of toffee.

Shiro approached the register alone now and Lance strangely felt his stomach drop to see Keith was nowhere in sight. Had he heard them? Was he brooding in the cemetery now? Was he plotting Lance’s demise for gossiping about him? The unease settled further when he remembered the slope of Keith’s shoulders, looking down at an unmarked grave. Not for the first time, he shook off the part of him that wondered just who Keith had been visiting that day. It wasn’t relevant. It wasn’t his business. It’s not like he’d ever ask.

Setting his shoulders back a little stubbornly, Lance turned to face Pidge again. “Keith’s a broody, know-it-all hot shot who thinks he’s better than me,” he scoffed, “he’s not, though.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow but didn’t say another word.

After that, Hunk managed to steer the conversation in to a far friendlier direction and Lance decided that Hunk was right. He was definitely taking a liking to the little genius, even despite their prickly exterior.

When Pidge and Hunk trailed into a seemingly serious discussion about robotics and the tournament, Lance gave them both a thumbs up and started messing around on his phone, obviously out of his element.

He scrolled absently past pictures on Instagram. His ex girlfriend, Plaxum, snorkeling in the tropics with her soulmate, A picture on Nyma’s account with Rolo at what looked like a rave- she and Lance had quite nearly been a thing but it turned out she had been using him to make Rolo jealous. It didn’t hurt nearly as much now, but his ego had been sore over it for being suckered so easily. He should have known there was no chance in the world with her. After all, there’s no competing with soulmates.

Lance’s skin prickled. The topic of soulmates had never been a touchy subject for him. He’d always been excited by it, it was so romantic! True love, just like the fairytales said! He’d always imagined himself as the prince, coming to whisk his beautiful princess off her feet. But now… he couldn’t think about it. It didn’t matter. He was happy for Plax and Nyma. It didn’t matter that Lance didn’t-

“I said it’s fine, Shiro. Leave it.”

Lance’s eyes darted up to where Pidge and Hunk were still spouting techie gibber. They didn’t seem to notice the sharp voice that cut through the atmosphere like a knife.

“You know I’m just worried about you, Keith.”

A grunt in response.

Lance tried his best to subtly turn his torso, as if he was merely trying to get more comfortable, so that he could get a better view. When that didn’t work, he pretended to crack his back, sighing in real relief as the bones of his spine popped and cracked with the motion and then, froze.

Keith was looking in the other direction, chewing defiantly on a piece of croissant and ignoring the patient look Shiro was giving him. Rather than the secret, cafe date escapade between student and professor Lance’s silly imagination had entertained, this meeting looked… familiar. The look Shiro had was almost paternal, a firm but forgiving warmth. Lance had been on the receiving end of that kind of look his fair share of times; his father comforting a ten year old Lance in the hospital after he’d broken his arm, worried, but steadfast, not scolding him for climbing that big metal horse and buggie at the playground because he knew Lance was hurting for it; his mother’s soft eyes as Lance cried when his dog Pike had gotten too old and needed to be put down. A look that was knowing and… sad.

Lance felt weird, like he was spying on a private conversation. Well, he supposed he actually _was_. He seemed to have a habit of that lately: catching Keith at strangely solemn moments that had absolutely nothing to do with Lance. It was starting to tarnish this idea of him Lance had upheld since they met. He couldn’t have that, now. He didn’t know what he’d do if he started thinking of Keith as some… normal _person_.

He let himself straighten back out, checking his phone for the time, keeping it casual. His spine went rigid as he realized how long they’d been in the cafe. “Hunk, my dude. We need to get going. Class. Ten minutes.”

Pidge cut off mid sentence to glance at their watch. “Oh shit! Me too. I promised someone I’d help out in the engineering building.”

Lance chuckled, “Did you get dropped off here, Pidge? I’ll give you both a ride. Was plannin’ on taking Hunk anyway.”

Pidge gave him a reluctantly grateful smile, “Thanks, man.”

An olive branch, a peace offering. Lance returned it with a toothy grin of his own before Pidge turned back to finish packing their ridiculously large bag.

“Hunk! Don’t _touch_ my equipment!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading once again and I’m so SO very sorry for the long wait and general bad quality hhhhhh I’m trying here and I’ll try even harder from now on because ily all and your support means the world to me.


	6. Just a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been missing forever and i’m So sorry this is all I’ve got. Writers block has been murdering me. I kept trying to write more for this chapter and I just... couldn’t. I’m sorry guys. But I hope you like it and I’ll try to get better at posting,,,,
> 
> I’ve recently been doing a lot of Detroit: Become Human projects, however, and I hope you’ll forgive me long enough to check them out. I’ll be making a series of drabbles and shorts on that so if you like DBH, you’re in for a treat. They’re very close to my heart,,,,  
> Come yell at me for being an absentee on twitter @wearealljuan !!!

Light filtered through the palm trees overhead, leaving dancing shadows over Lance’s sun-kissed skin. He felt himself sink, gratefully, into the sand, relaxed. At peace. Further down, he could hear Mateo’s happy laughter as Anna chased him through the shallow waters of the beach shore. Beyond them, clear blue water led to the black of deeper ocean, stretching on forever. A contented sigh left his lips as he lay back. He’d forgone the beach towel in favor of the smooth, unbroken waves of white sand, let it sift through his outstretched fingers, digging his heels in, until he sank. Lower, lower, lower.

He was completely buried in it. The cool sand turned frigid around him, the sound of his nephew’s shrieks were muffled as burning cold sand filled his ears, his mouth, his lungs. He felt an almost unnatural hush fall over him as the sand took over his body. He lay suspended in a frozen sea until a suppressed scream broke through to him suddenly. A wash of fear rushed over him, compelling him to move. As soon as he made to break free, the ice melted to appease him. A moment's breath of relief was wiped away when Lance realized the heat that had freed him was a suffocating wall of flames, licking upwards, endlessly. He turned around frantically, hoping to find an escape, but no matter where he looked the fire was there to greet him. Deadly tendrils of smoke threatened to fill his body with ash. A flash of red.

It took a moment for Lance to process that the red wasn’t from a burst of flames, but a person. A red sweater draped over tense shoulders, silhouetted against white-hot flames. Black hair brushed the pale line of a neck. The mournful pose looked familiar to him, but Lance’s smoke riddled brain couldn’t manage to supply the name that sat on the tip of his tongue.

Like that, the flames went out and he was left alone in the dark with the stranger in the red hoodie. Shoulders shook, a sound like water dripping out of a broken faucet reached out to him as if from a great distance. Each drop sounded like grief.

_ Grief, grief, grief. _

It hit him like a tidal wave, like stormy eyes, deep as a galaxy, opening up to swallow him.

_ Grief. Loneliness. Fear. _

Lance couldn’t tell if they were his emotions or the stranger’s, or if it even mattered either way.

Words scrawled their way across his skin. Every single thing he’d written to his soulmate in the hopes that he’d get a response, now painting him black like the darkness surrounding him and, he noticed, words that were not his, scrawled in a red like blood. His racing thoughts couldn’t keep up with the words as the crawled up his arms, his chest, his neck. Before he felt the ink slip over his eyes, he looked frantically to where the stranger had stood, seeking out his last hope of escape. But where they had stood now only lay a red sweater, gently rumpled and still. The last thing he saw before the darkness overtook him was red ink, passing over his irises, pupils blown wide. Spelled out before him:

_ “I’m sorry.” _

  
  


Lance’s body jerked as if shocked. He was laying in a pool of sweat, shivering in the breeze wafting through his open window. It took a minute for him to control his breathing and even longer before he focused enough to look at the time. 

Flinching when the light from his phone proved to be too bright, he found that it was only 4:03.

He groaned and fell back onto his pillow. After twenty minutes of restlessly laying down, Lance threw his blankets aside and resigned himself to crawling out of his bed. He felt around blindly for a pair of sweats and a long sleeved t-shirt to put over his boxers before popping out the screen of his window and lowering himself onto a small patch of roof. He stared up at the sky, intending to stargaze while he calmed his heart rate, but clouds blocked out the stars. The only light he saw was the streetlamps lining the road.

Lance sighed,  _ guess there’s no distracting myself with constellations. _

Naturally, his thoughts drifted to the dream-or rather, nightmare- that he’d had. It had been so vivid, but already he’d forgotten everything except the colour red and overwhelming sadness. It made him miss something he couldn’t name; something wistful twisted in his gut. He missed trips to Veradero beach with his farher’s side of family, sitting around at his grandma’s house while the smell of homemade garlic knots wafted through the house, listening to his brothers rant about crazy inventions they wanted to make, hanging out with Hunk at the park everyday that he could, talking to Ana about soulmates. He missed his childhood. The dreamy feeling of wondering what life would be like in love.

For a fleeting moment, Lance considered the blue sharpie, shoved haphazardly into the kitchen drawer. He missed loving the idea of having a soulmate. Especially now that he knew he didn’t have one. Or was sure he didn’t have one. Or was sure they would never answer even if they did exist, that he’d never know the reason why they didn’t answer. The guessing game just made him feel worse about the whole thing, so he put it away completely, crawled back through the window, out of his room. 

For a gut-twisting moment, he pressed his ear to Mateo’s door, hoping, praying beyond belief that he wasn’t crying again tonight, heard nothing but a soft snore. Lance breathed out his nose in favour of a heaving sigh and made his way downstairs.

He wished, for a second, that maybe his sister would be awake, that they’d finally have a chance to talk but when he approached the kitchen, she wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t. Normal people didn’t wake up at four in the morning. 

Lance plopped down on a stool at the kitchen island after grabbing a bottle of water, eyes still adjusting to the dim buzz of light from over the stove. Immediately, he focused on the junk drawer where he’d stuffed the blue sharpie. Not for the first time he wished he was as smart or mechanical or as  _ busy _ as Hunk. If he was, maybe he could be tinkering away in the garage, building a robot, working on his car, any number of things  _ other  _ than obsessing over soulmates. 

Lance was starting to get tired of feeling like he wasn’t meant for love. No matter how many girls he flirted with, spent hours planning dates, the perfect outfit, the perfect place, an embarrassingly long time practicing conversation starters in front of the mirror so his date would never get bored, they always left shortly after. Sometimes, he wished they even left because of _him_. But it was only ever because of soulmates. In the end, they had never taken him seriously. He was a placeholder, practice. They’d never stay around long enough for their budding relationship to turn into something more. The part of him that had spent every morning and night writing to his soulmate for two years understood. The tiny part of him that still wanted to believe in true love hoped that they never stuck around because one day, his soulmate would show up too. Until he started dating Plaxum. 

Plaxum had been his first real girlfriend. They’d been good friends since middle school. At first, he’d thought of her as a sister, she was dorky, with a silly laugh and a warm smile. She and Hunk always got on well because they were both huge nerds. But she loved swimming and played video games with Lance when he was sad and they’d sit around and read comic books and when she came to the beach with him they’d pretend they were mermaids. It wasn’t until their sophmore year of highschool that Lance realized she was pretty. 

He’d called Hunk and they’d ridden their bikes out to the park the afternoon of his epiphany and sat under the giant oak tree at its center where Lance had then confessed that he had never realized just how much he  _ liked  _ Plax. He’d talked and talked until he ran out of words and Hunk had tossed a stray rock into the sand pit and told him to “ _ go for it, Lance.” _

And so he had. And when she’d said yes, he’d felt like he was walking on a cloud, living in a dream. For the first time since he’d learned about soulmates, he found that he didn’t care about them at all. He was just so happy that this pretty girl he’d known for forever, shared so many memories with, was his  _ girlfriend. _

She’d kissed his cheek at their homecoming dance, held his hand at the mall, around the halls of school, he took her on a picnic date at a beach that couldn’t quite compare to the ocean but didn’t matter as long as she was there, and she invited him as her plus one to her aunt’s wedding. Every little moment had felt like something special.

Then, one day in July, just before their junior year had started, she told him her family was moving to California. She wanted to go to a highschool closer to the ocean, somewhere she could surf afterschool and that taught her subjects she needed to secure a major in marine biology, her parents wanted to be closer to family so they’d applied to jobs along the west coast. She had smiled and told him that she was glad she’d gotten to know him. Glad they’d spent their time together. “You were the best first boyfriend a girl could ask for,” she said, “and you are my best friend. I love you, but this was a choice we made as a family, y’know?”

And he  _ had _ known, he knew he’d choose his family too. He knew she couldn’t stay if her dreams were calling her to the coast. He often wished he could move too, somewhere warmer, wished he could have taken her with him to Cuba, so she could see his family’s home. But it never happened and a month after she was gone, they’d video chatted and she said she could feel it, her soulmate was there in California. A week later, she proved herself right.

Lance had tried so hard not to be bitter about it, but he couldn’t believe they’d known each other six years, dated for almost an entire year of that time, and yet this person she had just met was her soulmate. Suddenly, she was in love with someone else, and it felt like all his time with her had become so insignificant. It was the first time he’d thought about soulmates since he’d started dating her and it left a bad taste in his mouth. 

He’d gotten so caught up in his happiness that he’d never stopped to think that she had a soulmate, someone that  _ wasn’t  _ him. He’d wondered if she had ever spoken to them while they were dating, realized that he was probably the only person who thought they’d last a long time.

After Plaxum, he flirted around, but nothing ever came of it.

Lance sighed, trying to pull himself out of a spiral of negativity. Things were good now. He could finally make jokes about soulmates without it feeling like he was covering up his insecurity, he had college, his parents, some really cool friends. Ana was home now and he got to see his nephew every day and maybe even if he couldn’t help himself he could help ‘ _ them  _ at least. Romance was fun to think about but it didn’t have a place in his life right now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much if you have read up to this point. Please commment or leave kudos? The first chapter will be up soon since the prologue here is so short. (I’ll also fix the paragraph spacing cause A03 is weird about that stuff for some reason.) But I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule. Optimistically speaking, weekly, but probably more like bi-weekly as I’m settling into my second semester. I’d like to thank you beforehand for any and all fedback I might get for this. Thank you thank you thank you.  
> Smile,  
> \- Mack


End file.
